by Valerie Laken | Jan 1, 2019 | Poetry
By Megan Feringa An acorn hit me on the head as I walked to class today, but I didn’t look up. I was too busy reading about the other shooting. That one that happened yesterday. That one in Texas – yeah, Texas. In the church with Jesus and the grandma and...
by Valerie Laken | Dec 1, 2018 | Poetry
By Anastasia Jill She is four foot ten inches of lesbian metaphors, stuffed thighs, and a hand that works magic – brujeria between the eyes and alchemy in your thighs that are sitting in fire ants, covered in honey. Her skin is the color of raging tungsten –...
by Valerie Laken | Dec 1, 2018 | Poetry
By Dylan Youngers the body is comprised of three white bed sheets watch how they gently curve into biceps shoulders thighs jawline I think they will start to fold into themse lves now see how the body distorts the pectorals jut outwards forcing the back spine...
by Valerie Laken | Nov 1, 2018 | Nonfiction
By Melanie Raybon When I moved to Tallahassee as a ripe 18-year-old, highly underprepared and ill-equipped to handle the independence and staggering loneliness of university life, I weighed 129 pounds. In high school, I was that super annoying skinny girl who...
by Valerie Laken | Nov 1, 2018 | Poetry
By Callie Weers children’s tea party sipping rainwater tea from morning glory cups abandoned paper boat beached inside a sandbox it sails the heat waves beneath objective lenses, the crowded blood cells resemble raindrops Callie Weers is...